Untouched
by BluePhyre
Summary: Impeccable timing should only be left to the experts, and if there ever was such a thing, that would be Wilbur Robinson. Unfortunately, he doesn't have a memory half as good. W/L Timecest. Requested by tinkerbelle22. 7th in oneshot series.


**Disclaimer: I don't own Meet the Robinsons, any of its characters, or "Untouched" by the Veronicas. However, I did create Louise for my own sadistic, let's-torture-them-some-more amusement.**

Hey, I know it's been a while for me over in the MTR section of things. And, uh, I know it's been forever since this was requested by tinkerbelle22. And I know this isn't much... As far as anything goes. But I'm hungry and trapped in my room (I've been a bad girl...) and I haven't slept in longer than I'd care to admit, mostly thanks to Tom Felton. Ah ha, that means my Tom Felton-themed screensaver, which I put to go off after one minute of inactivity, because watching that is like going to heaven. Or Hell, I suppose, because it's Draco, but... Sigh. Drool. I've been praying every day since... yesterday... that I'm really Sapphyre Black, the last heir of the Black family, and that one of my friends is Scarlett Lestrange, the daughter of Bellatrix's husband's brother, and thus cousin to Draco, and that we'll get shipped off to Hogwarts four years late and that she, having such a good relationship with her cousin, would just go and murder Pansy for me and set us up, and then we'd live happily ever after as we spite all those with inferior blood to ours. Yay! Or, you know, if I could just trade places with Tom Felton's girlfriend. Tom Felton's annoyingly hot, plastic-looking, British girlfriend. Why do the movie stars always go after that type!? Why don't they ever pick someone who looks less like a fucking barbie doll!? Why can't they pick someone with a normal name!? I mean, what kind of a name is Jade? No offense to anyone named Jade out there who's reading this (unless you're the Jade that's hooking up with Tom Felton, then you can take all the bloody offense you want and use it to stuff your silicone... I'll stop there.) but OMG, why can't they date someone normal!? Or, you know, completely as abnormal as I am. Uh... anyway...

As you might have guessed, God hasn't fulfilled that request yet. All ye fellow fangirls (and fanboys, the very few of you in comparison that exist) pray for me as well? I've also been holding in a fangirl squee for longer than I ever did before, because I have to be alone and it has to be after the time _**unemployed**_ (meant for Father, there, who hopefully isn't reading this) people wake up during the summer. I can't wait much longer...

Read! And, Timecest fans, please get me one of those freaky friday fortune cookies?

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"Wilbur," Lewis complained, a blush heating his face in a way that made the cowlicked boy smile wickedly. The blonde sighed as he realized his whine had sounded so much more like a moan than he had intended. He was letting on too much…

Wilbur laughed as Lewis' eyes snapped shut and his nose scrunched up in his attempt to keep the bright red flush from spreading across his face. He felt it was safe to say that it wouldn't work, and that was quite fine with Wilbur; Lewis looked cute that way…

Though adorable, the blush adorning Lewis' cheeks was not undeserved, for, within a few seconds of bursting into the blonde's room, Wilbur had tackled him to the bed and pinned him down to the mattress in one catlike leap.

And that left them in their current position, with Wilbur sitting atop Lewis' torso and his hands pinning Lewis' on either side of his head. The blonde also found himself shirtless, mostly due to the fact that, as Wilbur had burst into the room, he had been changing from his day clothes into his nightwear. But, knowing Wilbur, that had probably been his plan all along.

Said brunet let out another chuckle as he leaned closer to the blonde under him, his hot, sweetly scented breath wafting against Lewis' face, contrasting the winter's cold seeping into the room. The inventor shivered, and his body tensed up as she struggled uselessly under the much stronger boy.

"Happy to see me?" Wilbur asked, pointedly rubbing his hips against Lewis', causing the blonde to shudder once again. When no reply came, the brunet shrugged and, licking his lips appreciatively at the sight below him, arrogantly declared, "Eh, you will be very soon."

What would usually happen next in this type of scene would be a few curse words from the blonde genius, a mini panic attack, a few insults thrown back and forth, and a lot of angst about their very, very forbidden love. Yes, that was exactly how Wilbur imagined it would go, because, although he usually came up with fantastic stories not at all relating to what was most likely to happen in reality, he knew some things just couldn't be expected to go well. He couldn't hope for more than he could get with Lewis. It was painful and fruitless at the end of the day, and rather tiring after a while. No one said it was easy being queer for your own father, after all. Not like… anyone had actually addressed the matter, really.

But instead of the usual outcome, Wilbur found something much better, for, right after the words had bolted so eloquently out of his mouth, Lewis had actually mustered the strength to throw Wilbur off and, oddly enough, grab his chin rather forcefully, slamming his lips into his son's with a need that had never been unleashed before. At least, not as far as Wilbur felt concerned.

Lewis' tongue made itself known, sensually teasing around the outline of Wilbur's lips as the kiss began. Eagerly, Wilbur opened his mouth to Lewis, jarring his own tongue into the blonde's mouth. A husky moan was caught somewhere in between the two, though neither could determine from whose throat it had come, and that was it. Play time was over.

It was Lewis that jumped first, forcefully pushing Wilbur down into the mattress as he attacked the task of unbuttoning his black dress shirt, struggling with each tiny button as the brunet captured his lips in a wet, sloppy, painfully needy kiss where they never truly met. Lewis grunted in frustration as his buttons slipped fruitlessly over the tiny, pearly black buttons, trying to focus both on the hot tongue that was dancing through his mouth and the tiny little arrogant fastening that was keeping him from what he wanted so dearly.

"Lewis…" Wilbur moaned, and that was the last straw. The blonde pulled away with a growl, ripping the brunet's shirt open in a shower of buttons. Wilbur gawked while Lewis yanked the dark undershirt that hid his muscular chest over his head. "That had been my favorite shirt!" he cried, ever the vain one, but it seemed like Lewis hadn't heard him at all, for his tongue had fallen upon his chest and was trailing a seductive, looping line down to where skin the stretch of his tanned skin disappeared below the stiff denim of his jeans.

Just as Wilbur arched his back, pleading wordlessly for more with a throaty moan that shook both the men to their core, Lewis chuckled and let his tongue trace the same path it had taken until it reached one of Wilbur's nipples, and he encased the hard nub with his lips, the heat being enough to make Wilbur cry out again.

"Please," the brunet begged, and Lewis' hand snaked down to his belt buckle, toying with the leather there hard enough so that Wilbur could feel it all too well. "I feel so untouched… I need you…"

"All you had to do is ask," Lewis teased with a smirk, quickly clearing both of their bodies from the clothes they had left over. And then, they descended into feral desire.

After all was said - moaned - and done, the two men laid still in Lewis' bed. The brunet was resting on his back, a smile that, for once, was free of any smugness, stretched across his lips. The blonde was curled up against his figure, cradled softly by his arm, as he traced meaningless patterns against the well-defined lines of Wilbur's stomach.

"Why was it you came her in the first place?" Lewis asked quietly, in such a tired, contented voice that Wilbur almost didn't hear him at all. The brunet paused for a moment, replaying the night's actions in his mind. He couldn't quite remember why… Although he remembered everything else, and could probably explain each searing bite mark that beautifully marred his flawless skin. And then, with a guilty gulp, Wilbur came upon the reason.

"Well," he drawled quietly, wondering how exactly to put it delicately. "I kinda came here to tell you… Louise is pregnant."

There was a long pause, and Wilbur waited anxiously for a hurt that wouldn't feel as good as any that he had experienced previously in the night. But he was only met with Lewis' disappointed, slightly dismissing sigh. "Oh well," he replied finally. "I guess it was supposed to happen sometime. She _is_ your wife."

"You're not mad?" Wilbur asked, afraid that the blonde would blow up completely at the question. But instead, as Wilbur watched with a confused stare, Lewis only closed his brilliant baby blue eyes and smiled.

"Oh, very," he said. "But I'm tired. Women can come more often than, men, you know. Doesn't tire them out as much. So I'm simply going to go to sleep now, and if you're still here while I wake up, I'm going to kill you then."

"And if I'm not?" Wilbur asked hopefully.

"Well then," Lewis mused thoughtfully, trying to come up with the best answer. "Then I'm going to cry. I will anyway, mind you, but I'll just skip the whole step of homicide out of depression and a lack of resolve to chase you through the time continuum with a butcher's knife or other cliché killing implement of your choosing."

"Right…" Wilbur replied. "I guess I'll stay, then." Lewis shrugged. "You know," the brunet added, testing the waters recklessly, "we should do this more often."

"Louise should get pregnant more often," was the blonde's tired, lack-luster reply.

Wilbur chuckled and closed his eyes as well, pulling the naked body of the blonde closer. "I love you." Lewis smiled, and Wilbur glanced over his face, hoping for a reply. But the blonde was already asleep and snoring lightly, and there was no use waking him up for something Wilbur already knew the answer to.

Well, at least he was loved…

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Oh, hello timecest fans. Hello, _Jade_. Twitch. Everyone should review, okay? Twitch. And then check out the C2 for W/L timecest! Twitch. And then we can all go to happy land and dance on Jade's grave, because happy land has all the people that are banging your favorite characters dead and six feet under. I should practice deep breathing... Or, you know, try to sleep... Too late. Oh well. Thanks for reading and putting up with my hating on people not at all involved with MTR. Bye.


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